Es Tricky
by Sinnocent
Summary: What happens when a young, chipper Latin girl whomst always has a pep in her step and a melody in her walk gets the chance to become someone she always dreamed of being? What happens when she receives a letter that changes her inadequate life full of wishes and hopes? Friendships and rivalries. High fives and low blows. Pulled into a world thriving with drama. Will she make it?
1. Chapter 1: Prolouge

Chapter 1: Prologue

Chapter summary: This is just the introduction, bro. There's not much character interaction just intel on our protagonist. Might as well get to know the lass, eh? If you decide to stick around you'll be stuck with her happy-go-lucky, foul mouthed, chipper ass.

 _Jab, Hook, Hook, Jab_

Each individual blow landed, the poor punching bag suspended from the ceiling drawling back in result of the abuse it was being dealt. Unlike the punching bag, the hyper latina whomst was throwing the punches was having a rather swell time. She kept on her toes, bobbing and weaving, jabbing and dabbing, ducking and dodging invisible attacks. Sweat dripped down her temple onto the damn near moist stone floor. Loose little strands of her chocolatey hair that decided to rebel from the hastily made bun of other hershey curls atop her head clung to her forehead as she crouched low, bringing her clenched fists closer to her chest, avoiding yet another invisible blow.

In reality, she was pretty much actually allowing the old 80's rap bop booming from the stereo in the corner of the stuffy room to guide her 'graceful' movements. Speaking of graceful, she brought the back of her hand, wrapped in banadges from the wrist to reddened knuckle, to her nose, sniffling as she briskly wiped it. Very graceful in my opinion.

Sunlight peeked through the dimly lit room from the windows linning a single wall, the dust particles in the air flying and seemingly dancing to the tune of the music that bounced from wall to wall, honest to god it was that loud.

 _You'll go deaf, chica._

Her aunt would say in quite a knowing, smug ass tone albeit as she sweeped the dusty floors. Goodness, the gym hadn't had a good thorough clean since her aunt had moved away back home. Home to the glorious, hot, hot, blazing _Dominican Republic_ leaving her in the care of _Abuela_. _Abuela_ wasn't bad at all! In fact she was the perfect influence, truely. Patient, nurturing, fun, and as wise as any movie grandmother was. Our girlio would've most definitly tagged along to D.R though, had she not been chasing the same exact almost impossible (also idiotic) dream she had been racing after since she was just a young girl, bright eyed and toothless with a head full of dreams and schemes and a heart as big as her hope.

See, she had been wanting to be a professional wrestler for quite a bit now, her heart always dead set on that one questionable lifestyle. Good god, most teenagers would've used a fake ID for alohol and other nonsense, but not our girl, no. You can bet yout bottom dollar that she had used that crafted custom ID to walk her chipper ass right into a local underground fightclub organization. And you can bet your top dollar she walked her dazed ass out at the end of the night, bloody nose, busted lip, bruised eye, (maybe an extremely kinkshamable pain kink) and boosted confidence. In school she had taken wrestling for a spell, only because the footballs coaches were sexist bastards. Ever since the first few matches, she had begun watching WWE on cable- sparking worry in her poor _Tia_ Daniela and sparking such interest in herself. She had even pressed the more wealthy, disconnected side of her family for support in her self-proclaimed life goal. She had spent a few years in wrestling school, yes it's a real place, goodness google will educate you as it did the intelligent me.

Gee, where are my writing skills? if you have yet to notice that I have yet to reveal the name of our protagonist I must be a damn good writer, if you have- well damn don't expect too much from this story. Mira De La Vega, our protagonist brought all her attacks unto the punching bag to a halt, Her breathing shallow and heavy, the fire in the pit of her stomach hinting at the fact that she knew she would rather be sparring with a human, rather bask in the feeling of her knuckles burying into flesh, reaching hard bone rather than hard leather covering even harder sand. She was but a delicate Catelaya orchid basking in the glow of the warm sun. Plot twist: deep down she was simply a dissatisfied, angry woman. The fire in her belly was quickly overshadowed with an all too familiar surge of excitement, spreading over her body that was pretty gross with sweat. God, words could not describe her joy.

Did I mention after five whole years, give or take 6 months (definitely give) she had finally been noticed by the big leagues?

The smile on her caramel little face was enough to warm the coldest, emptiest person. The glimmer in her hazel eyes could make an emo child wash the dye from their hair and dance to the glorious tunes of kids bop. She let out a silent squeal of joy, wiggling her chistled body and stomping her feet. Hm, stomping wasn't quite the word. Bouncing would suffice because let me tell ya, Mira was light on her feet, her movements were ever fluid and graceful.( I know what you're thinking there, buddy 'The girl literally used her hand as a cleanex! Graceful who?' You're probabaly not thinking that, I am but anywAYS)

The brunette suddenly found heself stepping along to the beat of this highly dance-able song, moving her body as she allowed her excitement to control her body. A light laugh flittered from her lips as she came to a hesitant stop. Gosh, she didn't want to stop dancing and training in her little gym. Her laugh shifted to a sad chuckle as she thought of what was to come. Soon, she'd have to go away. To achieve her lifelong goal, of course. Don't get me wrong she wanted this badly, everyone wanted this for her, everyone knew how much this meant to her. She only hoped she'd stay in contact with her less attractive childhood friends. They gave her confide- I MEan they gave her, er, uh, motivation. Sighing, Mira strode over to the stereo that blasted bops that got her blood pumping. She huffed, blowing a few stray hairs from her sight as she bended her knees, her pointer finger pushing over the button that resigned the stereo to its dormant off setting. She stood straight and stretched her arms to the ceiling, catching a rather unpleasant whiff of herself. She visibly winced,

" _Ay, Caramba_ ," She murmured, bringing her arms down quickly. She shook her head at once thinking of the aroma of dirty old socks filled with even older, dirtier onions with a hint of Old Spice men's deodorant mixed in. A shower would be needed, definitely. She had to keep her hygiene up if she was going to be a pristine, _snobby_ , dramatic diva. She stepped towards a near table containing her post practice necessities. A bottle of ice cold water, condensation causing a small puddle to have formed around the teal bottle, a fluffy towel, two fluffy towels actually. One for sweat which was considerably smaller than the one used after showers, both stolen from a nearby hotel that was fancy enough to not miss the absence of two simple towels. A duffel bag containing a change of clothes, a little pack of hair holders- just in case- a roll of bandages, a bar of soap, and last but certainly not least, a few maybe four packs of vitamin fruit snacks. Listen, you can insult Mira for anything you choose, but never insult her way of getting her nutrition and vitamins. I swear she's actually an extremely mature person.

She grabbed her bottle, flipping up the straw before she took a swig, tossing it back like a poor guy at a grimy bar whomst had just recieved the news that his wife was leaving him for a man named Estabon whom wore the same tank top everyday. The cool water slid down her throat, cooling her stomach and fresh on her tongue. Once she was satisfied, she sat down the water and grabbed her sweat towel carelessly tossing it over her face the scent of fresh linen assaulting her nostrils. She let out a hum of contentment before she removed the what I shall onwardly refer to as her face towel from her face. She tossed it back on the table as she grabbed her bar of soap, placing it onto the showering towel. She wrapped the towel around the bar before she lifted the shower time bundle and grabbed her teal and black duffel. Time to clense

Taking her nutritious gummies, she strolled out of the gym, travelling to a small room that contained the basic bathroom necessities, stalls and shower stalls, as Mira called them. She undressed herself swiftly after flipping on the lights, tossing her articles of clothing here and there though she handled her teal and white polka-dot unmentionables with care, draping them over the sink. Any other day she'd perform a little strip tease for herself but she actually wanted to get through this quickly. She had to go home and start packing, our girl departed tomorrow evening after all. She tossed her duffel against a wall as she walked towards an empty 'shower stall', the tile floors felt almost icy against her feet, her hand reaching up to free her mane from its bond that was simply an elastic hair tie. Her long hair cascaded down her shoulders like frazzled curls of chocolate, rich caramel highlights streaking the pleasant shade and she literally could not stop grinning to herself.\

As she stepped into one of the old scarcely used shower stalls, she allowed her imaginitive mind to stray. She had experience- believe it or not, the woman was in her mid twenties. Unofficially, she has been 'pro-wrestling' for quite some time, honestly. She worked harder and grew smarter each day with the hope to go farther. Her style of fighting was simple enough, nothing with too much pazazz. Nothing fancy, but her trainer never said that fancy was essential. She stuck to her core knowledge, boxing, and used her impressive strength to carve out a ever so fresh reputation. Sincerely, she hoped she'd be able to cement herself in at WWE. The Summer Slam was vastly approaching and she'd be diddly darn damned if she was sent back home without at least a days taste of that excitement, ' _Cojeme'_ Mira thought with a mental huff, ' _I'm doubting myself again.'_.

Her hand moved forth to the shower handle, turning it slowly. The rusty old handle let out quite a shrill shriek as it was disturbed from its ever lengthy nap. The water was ice cold at first, causing Mira to let out an overexaggerated hiss. The seconds of torture passed and the water gradually heated to a nice warm temperate. Not too hot, though.

Sigh, hopefully if-When she got famous in the league, people would put the pieces together and the Diaz family gym would finally be put to use as it once was. Don't get her wrong, it was nice to have the place to herself- people were fuckin' weird and her experience with men in other ibhabited gyms made it this just simply perfect for her it just sometimes got creepy at times, just her and only her. Sometimes, there'd even be blackouts! It didn't help that the gym was located on a dark street. Mira forgot how many wannabe children she'd have to chase away like rats with the old wooden broom near the entrance of the gym. Smetimes it was alright, though. Some of the kids were alright. Most just were downright rotten and near sleezy. She pushed the thoughts of home down, letting her dreams of the future fill her mind.

The water caressed her body, streaming down the curve of her hips, the valley between her honey breasts, and the arch of her back from her drenched locks in thick rivulets. Mira closed her eyes, moving her hands up to her hair as she accepted the feel of warm water against her scalp.

One satisfying borderline sexually written shower later,

Our girl turned off the water earning yet another rusty shriek, though this one was noticably more quiet. After wringing out her chocolatey curls, she stepped out of the shower, water dripping from her body creating a little puddle around her feet. She walked towards her collected little pile of clothes leaving watery footsteps in her wake. She crouched her knees to grab her fluffy snow white shower towel. She dried herself thoroughly before folding the towel, sitting it down atop her discarded sleeveless sweatshirt. Her hands moved to her duffel, working on the zipper swifly and easily. Her hazel eyes flittered over the rather plain change of clothes she had brought along. A teal tank top and an slightly oversized pair of timberwolf gray sweats that had belonged to her aunt once upon a time. She pushed those aside in order to locate her undies and socks. Yes, she had forgotten a bra in her hastiness to get to the gym. She grabbed her undies and stood to slip them on pulling them up over her glutious maximus, a.k.a her rear. She then grabbed a pair of white and gray socks separating them so she could individually pull them on. They fit her like gloves. After the little things that surely mattered were taken care of, she dressed herself, pulling her stolen sweats up over her tank top once she was done. She stuffed her old clothes and her towel into her duffel, hefting it over her shoulder after she braided back her long hair.

She walked towards the exit of the public bathroom, her hand drifting to the switch. She took one last look around, checking for anything she may have left behind. _Ay_ , she had once left her undies. Once she confirmed to herself everything was all clear, she flipped the switch down, and the lights flickered out as she confined the room to its dormant darkness for the last time.


	2. Chapter 2: Respira, Mira

Chapter 2: Respira, Mira

Mira gathered her things and was out, finally done at the gym. She stepped out into the humid summers sunset lugging a rather stuffed duffel over her shoulder. Her still damp hair was tied back in a braid, falling down her back roughly meeting her waist. She let out a soft sigh, her eyes taking in the sight of that beautiful sunset. The view was wonderous. The view of a sky streaked pink, smudged orange, and speared lavender with specks of pomergranate red creating a breathtaking sight. She tore her gaze from the array of colors before her as she felt a sense of nostalgia fill her and the memories flood in. She was right here, 17 and surrounded by others both older and younger than she. They cheered and screamed her name as she had a girl her age pinned to the concrete, her knee pressing into that girl's stomach holding her there, one hand tangled in her hair and the other pounding her fist into that girls ever lovely cheekbone. That girl whom was now a woman whom had moved on and forgotten their little mishap. The girl who often stood in the mirror at the neighborhood salo, zoning out as she studied her face and her scars.

There wasn't only bad though, with a fond smile as she walked she recalled her old friend busting open the fire hydrants every summer, every single summer. She recalled the christmas times, she and her buddies obnoxiously yellling _Feliz Navidad_ as they strolled through the neighborhood. New years was the same deal, though most people were more accepting and excited at their loudness as they sang old spanish _boleros._

Before she knew it, she was home and her reminiscing was put to a bittersweet end. She was greeted with a sweet kiss on the cheek from her _abuela_ whom was currently in the process of doing laundry.

Abuela was ever the lovely lady, the light of Mira's life and her motivation. Her little whispers and her bright wrinkled smile warmed Mira's heart. The nights where they just sat around and played board games were simply incomparable. Apart of her wished she could stay here in new york with her friends, family and her sins but that part was drowned out with her excitement,

"Mira, _mija,_ " Abuelasaid fondly, holding a whicker basket of laundrey as she smiled a warm smile at our protagonist, "You're home,"

Mira returned the smile, nodding. She then gestured to the light basket of laundry, "Need a hand?" She asked taking a step forward, extending her arms to take the basket off _Abuela's_ hands. Abuela didn't protest, hey, why d'ya think she kept Mira around and never chastitied her about getting her own place? It's free labor, baby and someone to play cards with.

" _Gracias, Ay carajo_ I'm too _old_ and _frail_ for such housework. What am I going to do without you, _Mija_?" Came Abuela's joking, playful reply to Mira's help.

"Ah, I think you'll find something, Abuela," Mira laughed, shaking her head as she began to walk down the hall with her _abuela_ by her side,"Besides, you, helpless? Just plain impossible." For as long as she could remember, she's always had such faith in her _abuela_ , such adoration for how hard she worked and how high her spirits always where. Her _abuela_ , now in her late 60s still seemed as inspiring and extraordinary as she was in her times of youth. Gee, sometimes Mira even forgot Abuela was older that she was! Her hazel eyes travelled over the halls as she walked, the portraits and paintings hung in frames of plastic painted gold in copper. A lovely contrast to the warm sunset orange walls. Her gaze flittered over the portraits. She smiled fomdly seeing herself, toothless with pigtails and bright olive eyes. Next up to bat was the family portrait that always warmed her heart. It was her, her father, her mother and her aunt. Her parents...

She could scarcely remember the last time she had seen the two. Her eyes lingered on her mother, olive green eyes, freckles dusting over her nose so delicate that you could only notice them if you had once before spent hours studying the photo as Mira has before, Her cheekbones high and her curls like waves of caramel framing her face. There was a flower of apricot orange and scarlet red tucked behind her ear and there on her lap, a young Mira sat with her own little blue and aquamarine version of the flower in her chubby little hand. Next, her eyes drifted to her father. His chocolate curls less like waves and more like ripples on a previously calm sea. His eyes were a rather light mousy shade of brown, somehow stormy yet his aura resonated sweet and sincere. His open mouthed smile revealed the fact that he had a slightly noticable gap between his front teeth. Just like Mira. Our protagonist looked away with a soft sigh before she then noticed Abuela had been watching her. Before Abuela could ask, Mira spoke up, "I'm fine, Abuela."

A large plant in copper colored vases wrapped in the middle with a thin band of orange fabric sat at the end of the dim hall. Mira then focused her attention on that.

The two latin women reached the laundry room after a moments time. Mira stepped into the laundry room, sitting down the basket atop the dryer, "I'll keep you company," She said as she smacked her hands together, pretending she had just completed hefty work.

"Actually, Estella from the salon called earlier, she said it was urgent that you call," Abuela let out a chuckle as she approached the dryer, "Let elders be elders, _mija._ Go call her back,"

Mira gulped, ' _Ay dios mio-_ ' she thought, ' _an urgent phone call from Stella?_ ' Please play _Milf next door_ at her funeral. She nodded with a nervous little chuckle before she slipped out of the laundry room and walked to her own moderately messy room, wondering what Stella was cooking up- come on now name someone, other than Abuela, whom wasn't afraid of Stella. You probably can't-

Our protagonist entered her room, instantly the first thing she did was remove her shoes, like honestly why not? She was a typical fan, posters, signed T-shirts and photographs taped messily onto her walls. The highlights of her life are simply when she went to the matches. Her dresser was a different story, though. On it were framed photos of her parents, a jewelry box, and a little cactus plant. Surrounding the framed photos were candles and flowers that were quickly dying and browning. A Hello Kitty lighter sat at the edge of her dresser.

She remembered once when she was but a simple 13, her _tia_ Daniela had taken her to one of the matches since it had been her parents anniversary. After the match, Mira had waited hours just to meet one of her idols, _John Cena_ , in the flesh up close and personal. He had humored her dreams and far fetched goals at being in the league as he was and he had spoken, given her advice that she would probably never forget(Mostly because she had some of it engraved on her necklace) _'If you lose your way, stumble, or fall, don't give up.'_ Were the words spoken to her, engraved on the front surface side of her silver locket. _'Continue walking the path of your life. Respira and you'll be fine.'_ Advice given to her by her _abuela._ Engraved on the other side. She took a breath,

" _Respira_ , Mira. Man up." She murmured to herself. Honestly, Stella wasn't that bad it was just- she was intimidating. Mira fell into bed, proppping herself upon her elbows. She reached over to her nightstand and opened the drawer. Her hand fumbled and searched around it's contents before she finally found the smooth surface of her phone screen. As her trainer advised, she had to learn how to avoid distractions. So, taking that advice Mira left her phone at home, instead bringing a rather embarrassing track phone to the gym when she trained. She took her phone from the drawer, shutting it briskly.

You don't want to know what else our protagonist kept in that drawer.

She powered on the phone, holding the soft rubber power button for a few seconds, at least until the samsung logo showed itself. Mira was a samsung sort of _chica._ Immediatly once her lock screen was visible, surprisingly it wasn't a WWE related photo, just simply a picture of a blood red rose covered with shining water droplets, she saw so many missed call notifications on her lock screen, so, so many. Goodness. She swiped her thumb across the screen with a sigh, blurring the photo and unlocking her phone. She pulled up her phone app, scrolling through her contacts. Finally, she got to Stella. She tapped the contact, dialing the number.

After literally one ring, Stella answered and Mira's eardrum was attacked with the volume of Stella's tone. Just a wave of loud, spanish swears, fast and fluent. Our protagonist could hardly make out what the hell Stella was saying. Finally, Mira took charge, "For fucks sake, _pendejo_ , I can't understand a thing you're sayin'! English, _carajo_." It was a brave occurance when someone decided to stand up to Stella, but hey, Mira was leaving tomorrow. Why not be a daredevil? There was a long, silent pause. ' _Stella .exe has stopped working?'_ Mira thought to herself, rolling over in bed before she sat up, sitting indian style. Her mattress was full of springs, the noise as she moved abruptly reminded her of that.

" _Ay_ , look at you, my little Mira's growing up." came the proud reply, Stella's tone uneven due to her little rant earlier. In the background, Mira could clearly make out a raunchy dance-able latin song playing, "And growing a pair! I called you a thousand times, _coño_. What? Does miss hot shot not want to stay friends? That it?" Her tone was more playful and sharp than biting and serious and Mira exhaled in relief, alright this should be easy, though she had to admit cussing at Stella was quite satisfying. Though, cussing in general was just the way to go. Hear that, kiddies?

Mira let out a chuckle, rolling her eyes, "Come on, _mami_ , That'll never be the case. Chillax. Is this why you called?"

Honestly, Mira wouldn't be surprised. Everything was urgent to Stella, well not everything. Just the things Stella felt to be important. And if they weren't important to you as well- Well God have mercy on your soul, then. She took the phone from her ear, pressing the speaker button before she sat it down. She leaned forth, removing her socks gingerly as she waited. A little grown escaped her lips, goodness she was sore already. Times like these she wished she had some sort of lover, or even _amigo_ to help her with this.

"Look, _mi amor_ , let's skip the foreplay, when's the last time you came down to the salon?"

The question must've been rhetorical because Mira had slim to no chane at a reply.

"Exactly! Too long. How about this. You come down first thing tomorrow morning and I give you a little 0% off discount?"

Mira actually had to take a moment to remember what exactly 0% calculated to because let's be honest here, most people would've. Before our protagonist could even answer, Stella spoke once more.

"Sound good? _Bueno_! Good night, _cariño,_ Tell Abuela I said hello, _mi vida_ , see you tomorrow, then!"

"Wait!"

But it was too late, the call was then ended and Mira was left wondering how she allowed herself to be webbed up so easily. Now she was trapped in one of Estella's constellations. That's what everyone in the neighborhood called them. She ran her fingers through her wild, unruly curls. Well, in all honestly a little trip wouldn't kill her. She needed it. Perhaps that was Stella's no-isn't-in-my-vocab-chica way of saying, 'You look like trash come through and let me help'. Mira sighed, shaking her head, she couldn't be a no show. She just felt...inclined to go. Besides, her trip was set for sometime around sunset. She'd have plenty of time to say her goodbyes and end relations- Then she remembered something. Her hand moved to the nightstand beside her bed and she opened the door. She leaned over to get a good look before she reached her hand in to retrieve the ticket she had been mailed a few days prior. She actually had yet to examine the ticket...

United airlines, Coach, plane ticket.

" _Hijo de puto, carajo!_ If people were meant to fly we would've been BORN WITH WINGS!" Mira suddenly exclaimed, the tightening in her stomach evident to be fear. Our of respect for her abuela, she lovered her voice a bit to an angered whisper. She never had a taste for heights, after hearing about the bermuda triange and watching one too many plane crash films. Her hazel eyes then bulged with shock and outrage as she caught onto the air company. United airlines?!

" _Que chingadoes?!_ United airlines? I'll get my ass kicked before my first match 'flying united'! _Fóllame!"_

Mira was just having an all out vent, honestly she was more worried than she was angry. They had ordered a coach ticket. Was that normal? Or was it like she was merely a little girl whomst deserved nothing more than coach. Did they not see something in her? Her hand flew to her locket, gently running the pad of her thumb over the words engraved there. She then closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. _Bondad_ , she had to get herself under control.

" _Respira_ , Mira."

She willed herself to think of something calming. Lily pads dancing over a deep blue pond. Ice cream with rainbow spinkles over the top.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, falling back into bed. After she placed herself under her comforter, she shifted, moving her hand to rest at her hip. She moved her hand high up her hip, absent mindedly lifting her tank top ever so slightly. She cast her eyes down, trying to find that excitement once more. Goodness, even the nervousness would be appreciated. Gradually, she began to feel a tingle of something in her fingertips, spreading to the rest of her body. Ah, it was probably just sleepiness, exhaustion perhaps.

Closing her eyes once more, she tried to give into the tingle attempting to convince herself to sleep, but she somehow just couldn't. There was far too much happening in her head. She was doubting herself, finally allowing that nibbling bite in the pit of her stomach to get to her.

She sat up, tossing the covers off her before she swung her feet over the edge of the bed. She stood, getting out of bed. Her bare feet sinking into the cozy plush carpets of her bedroom. She walked over to her dresser, grabbing a candle. Ginger and lemon was the scent. She retrieved the lighter, lighting it gingerly. Perhaps a warm glass of milk would help her sleep.

With that thought, she sat down the lighter and held the candle as made for the exit of her bedroom, and stepped out. She quietly closed the door behind her, knowing Abuela had probably went to sleep long ago, but wanting to make sure she didn't wake the older woman whomst had ears like a bat. She made her way down the ever dim hall, the warm colored candle-lit living room getting closer in view with each step she took. The pleasant aroma of her candle, blending with the spicy sweet scent of her living room made her smile. She'd miss this cozy little house. Finally, she reached the living room. Had to pass this room to reach the kitchen. Her eyes scanned the living room before she finally noticed with a start her _abuela_ sitting on the couch, her head in her hands and a few papers in front of her spread out. Getting a closer look and leaning forth, Mira noticed it seemed to be the months rent, oh boy.

"Abuela, are you alright?" Mira asked as she slowly sat down her candle on a nearby shelf,

Noticing Mira's arrival, Abuela jumped a bit in shock, "Ay, _mija,_ you almost gave me a heart attack!" Abuela replied, narrowly avoiding Mira's question as she hastily grabbed up the papers, "I'm alright, are you okay?"

Mira started forward, quick, "No, no. Let me see," She said, her words carrying pleading undertones ignoring Abuela's question. She reached the coffee table quickly enough, leaning down to place a hand over her _abuela's,_ over the _papers_ , "What is this? The rent, right? Abuela, move your hand, let me see,"

Abuela made no movement indicating she'd oblige, "Mira-"

 _"Please_."

With that, Abuela slowly moved her hand. Mira nodded her gratitude before she grabbed up the papers, going through them. Alright, alright. It turned out to not have been the rent. It was the water bill, fine. That was fine. Mira could handle the water bill. She moved onto the next paper and her resolve weakened a bit. This one was the rent and _carajo_ , It was NOT supposed to be this much. Who gave their Landlord the right to escalate their rent? The house wasn't even in Mira's name! It was solely in Abuela's. How could someone do this to a harmless old woman? A lump formed in Mira's throat and her eyes burned and it became harder to make out the hefty number at the bottom of the page. She didn't have this sort of money and Abuela was retired. How was she to pay this? She could work a double shift for the rest of the week or-

Then she remembered once more her trip. Her tickets. Her dream.

Why chase a stupid dream that was bound to never happen when the people around you are suffering solely because you just can't get your head out of the clouds?

"Abuela. I-I'll stay. I'll get a better job, I'll work a double shift. I'll do all I can. I could work something out with the _dueno_. I could ask Stella for a loan, I'll focus on the here and now. I'll get my head out of the clouds. I can't let you pay this alone." Her words were fast and her voice broke more than once. She felt absolutely horrible...

 _"Mija,_ come here," Abuela stood, her eyes oh so soft. She wrapped her arms around Mira before she sat once more, taking Mira with her. She held the girl close,

" _Respira, sigue andando el camino por toda su vida. Y si pierdes mis huellas que dios te bendiga. Respira, Mira."_ Her words were gentle and warm and at once, Mira wondered what did she ever do to be blessed with such a woman. A woman whomst wasn't even actually her grandmother biologically. She closed her eyes, letting her resolve facade crumble and she wrapped her arms around her _abuela_ and they stayed there. For hours, and hours.

The pleasant tweets of the birds resonate through the warm summer's morning air as Mira walked out of her humble little abode. The sound of latin music mixing with hip hop faintly filled the air. She stepped off the porch, with a soft sigh. The night had been a trying one, but after having a lengthy chat with Abuela most of the night into the early morning, she had calmed down. Her mind in a more reasonable place. She still wondered how she was to come up with the currency currently needed. Perhaps she could ask for an extension? Ugh, the landlord was always so sweet on her. She stretched her arms to the sky, getting on her toes and closing her eyes.

She reached into her pocket retrieving her phone. She pressed the power button, her hazel eyes scanning the time and date.

8:24 Am Mar, 24.

Well, the salon was just opening. Wouldn't hurt to come through. That 0% discount was waiting for her. She stepped back onto her porch. She opened the front door, peeking in, "Abuela, I'll be at the salon, be back home in a few!" She called before she closed the door, stepped back off her porch for the second time. The neighborhood was small, that fact was at her advantage most of the time. She didn't have to invest in a car. The longest walk she'd ever have to take was normally to the gym. The walk to the salon was just a few minutes. Approximately ten or fifeteen.

She shoved her hands into the pockets of her oversized baggy jacket as she began walking. Why was she even sporting a jacket in 80, almost 90, mind you, degree weather? It was such a hot day for spring. She felt around the soft, fuzzy fabric of the pockets, another sigh escaping her lips as the sun beat down on her. Her crazy curly mane not making the heat any more bearable. She removed her jacket briskly, revealing her toned arms and trim stomach as a result of the fact that she decided to wear a gray halter top today. She tied the jacket around her waist, tugging tight to make sure it didn't come undone as she moved.

During her walk, she had no room to get lost in her thoughts for most much everyone she passed greeted her and spoke. She recieved smiles and nods and pats on the shouders- congratulations, they had told her. Goodness, She had only told a total of four people about the phone call and the plane ticket. Well, she supposed it was only a matter of time before Stella and her big mouth spread the news around. Another pang of concern hit Mira. What if someone heard the news and felt it'd be wise to loot Abuela, a 'harmless, helpless' old woman whilst her brutish granddaughter was out of town?

To calm herself, Mira decided instead of trying to get things thought out in the time between greeetings she'd take in the scenery. From the neon lights of the strip club just outside of town in the distance all the way down to how there were chalk drawings in the pavement made by neighborhood children. As she walked around a corner, her eyes caught onto her very favorite corner store in the whole wide world, hip hop music played at a low volume from a speaker in the shop. The place where she often got her coffee on those types of mornings or just ranted to her cashier friend- or just schmoozed free snacks off him. She waved to the cashier as she passed by, "Keep scraping by, Eh, Charlie?"

The cashier, Charlie waved back, giving our protagonist a wide grin, "All we can do, anyhow, Senorita, Mira!" he began before he noticed that she hadn't come in to buy a few things. Normally she did, "Hey, what's your rush?" He asked, jogging to the door of the little corner store, a box keeping the door open.

"I got myself caught in a constellation again, I'll come by later, no te preocupes, Carlie!"

Ah, yes 'Carlie'. The endearing pet name she so often would use for her slightly older childhood amigo. Charlie was an interesting story, one of the best friends Mira could ever ask for. Having once tried a relationship that didn't quite work due to them both finding it hard to take seriously due to them more or less often thinking of eachother as family. He was still such a sincere, sweet guy as he always was. Someone she trusted almost as much as Abuela. He was someone also raised with Abuela around so they were always so close. She remembered they would often get into so much trouble with grafiti and vandalism. Tia Daniela would always bail them out.

Mira continued on her way, swift as she walked the pavement. Faintly, as she neared the salon, her ears picked up on this odd indistinguishable sound. It was familiar yet she just couldn't place it. Finally, she was just about at the source of the noise, and across the street from the salon. The source of that noise just so happened to be a fire hydrant some hero decided to bust open, assumably with a wrench. Kids whomst had spotted this holy gift from the heavens were messing around with it as if it were some oversized sprinkler. In a way, it was. They held their cones of piragua and ice cream bars as they played. Mira felt a sense of envy. They seemed so carefree

and they had ice cream!

She was tempted to toss off her overalls, donning a pair of trunks and join in. She was about to get Charlie so he could join, knowing he could be more irresponsib- er, childish as she but suddenly, Stella was standing in the doorway of the beauty salon across the street, yelling to our protagonist,

"Don't even think about it, chica!" She called, her perfectly plucked eyebrows knit together in urgency, "Get on in here before you make your hair any worse! Ay, It's a tradgedy to my eyesight! How could you let it get that bad?"

"Okay, okay! I get it. God." Mira murmured, her hand moving to fix one of the straps of her overalls that had begun to slip from her shoulder. She looked both ways before she jogged across the street, holding her jacket around her waist so it wouldn't fall. Stella held the door for Mira tapping her foot quickly, somewhat to the rhythm of the fast paced latin song playing from within the salon. She entered the salon, her eyes scanning over the acient shop. Ah, Stella was almost as ancient as the salon was, a woman in her late thirties. Though, at first glance one would think Stella was about Charlie's age whomst was a staggering 27. Stella was purely the definition of stunning. Her hair was a rich aurborn, the shade of glossed redwood. Her roots never showed, she stayed on top of her appearance no matter what was going on. Goodness, Mira remembered one summer in the midst of an almost 12-hour blackout, Stella had called her over to her place, claiming it was urgent and asking she bring a few candles. Of course, Mira had went as quickly as she could. Upon arrival, it was revealed Stella had just needed someone to light the candles and hold the flashlight as she dyed her hair. Before that day, Mira swore she had always thought Stella was a true redhead.

The salon had a sort of 80's vibe to it, having been around since the 80's with no proper makeover. It wasn't hideous, not in the lightest sense of the world. It was pleasant in a way. The chandeliers were of glass and an interesting shade of translucent orange. The walls were satisfying to gaze upon, splashed with a tangerine orange and smeared with scarlet and gold as well as some bronze here and there. Signed pictures of near C-list celebrities hang on the walls as well as a hair chart at the entrance. The cozy worn chairs matched the sunset color theme of the salon, a bright shade of ripe apricot. In the salon dwelled and loitered a few other women.

The first to greet Mira was Candy, a shorter woman in her mid twenties with loose butterscotch brown ringlets pushed back with a lavender headband. She ran up to Mira, elation in her eyes as she gave Mira a tight hug,

"Mira, Mira!" Candy exclaimed, installing caution in our protagonist.

"See? You need to stop avoiding the salon, chica. You're welcome here." Stella said, her words directed to Mira narrowly. Mira felt shame burn though her. She hadn't been avoiding- well, somewhat she had. The woman she had fought with worked at this salon and it was just superbly awkward whenever Mira set foot into the estabolishment. She wasn't afraid or anything. She just had better things to do than be confronted. Scanning the shop once more, Mira didn't see that certain woman. Alrighty-

"Candy, take Mira to get that overgrown birds nest on top of her head washed," Stella said, her witty tone carrying a hint of playfulness.

Candy nodded, "Uh-huh." she replied with a wide smile before she took Mira's hand, leading her farther into the shop to the sinks. The woman whomst stood by Mira's designated sink was a thin young lady named Bianca. She seemed to care just a bit less about the salon. No, that wasn't the case. She seemed to just have bigger dreams and it was evident she was paid minimum wage. She had impressing long café brown hair tied back in two hasty french braids. She greeted Mira with a little flutter of her fingers in a lazy wave. Mira smiled her greeting before she sat in the chair. She moved her hands up to release her hair from his unappealing, unruly bun.

It was just about 10 AM when almost all was over with. Honestly, Stella had taken over for Bianca after the first wash. She had dump all this chemical in Mira's hair as Candy and Bianca stood to the side chatting her up to distract her from Stella's witchcraf- um, washing.

Now, our protagonist sat in one of the salon chairs, Candy brushing out her rejuvenated curls. Stella smacked Mira's hand away whenever she had tried to touch her hair in awe. It was merely too beautiful, honestly. Deep down, though Mira knew this would cost a brick. Was it worth it?

Candy giggled. "You're looking nice, Mira."

Mira smirked to herself, looking into the mirror before her, "Tell me something I don't know."

Stella neared the two with a pair of thin silver hair scissors, "Grab a pair, amor, time for a trim." With that, Candy stepped aside, sitting down the brush in favor of a pair of hair shears. Stella reached out her hand, taking a section of Mira's chocolate curls, her long sharp scarlet nails penetrating through Mira's silky locks. She swiftly began to snip and clip, the noise making Mira cringe a bit. She remembered her mother would always be the one to handle her haircuts. Ever since the accident, she had scarcely let anyone touch her hair.

"Gorgeous!" Stella said in a sing-song voice, looking in the mirror briefly. At herself.

"¡Linda!" Candy went along, for Stella was her mentor and her goal. Her eyes also on mentors reflection. She too sheared at Mira's hair, the two working to trim Mira's hair to a shorter length. Not drastically shortened, though, From her waist to her navel.

"Tell me something I dont know!" Mira replied, crossing her legs as if she was these words in every sense. She obviously didn't know they were talking solely about Stella.

"¡Pendeja!" Stella countered sharply, her eyes shimmering with amusement.

"¡Sucia!" Mira bit back.

"¡Cabrona!" Candy said joyously to include herself.

"Tell me something I don't know!"

Stella smirked, "Bueno, when are you going to let me do your eyebrows, chica? From the moment you get on that plane to the moment you come back into town you represent this neighborhood! That reminds me, when's the last time you waxed your legs? Ay, it's like a haunted forest!" She exclaimed, jabbing the scissors in the general directions of Mira's legs. Mira self conciously rubbed her ankle over the other. Immediatly the perfect, hairless divas of WWE came to mind.

"I could do it for you, mi amor free of charge."

"Fine. Make it quick, though."

After a brief few minutes of chatting, they were done trimming down Mira's mane. Mira stood from the chair, walking to the mirror to check her reflection. She ran her hair along her smooth silky locks, her eyes softening. Goodness, it's been so long since she was actually able to see the shine of her curls- or notice the caramel highlights. Often, she had worn her hair up since it was always often so unruly and messy. Hopefully now she'd be some form of competition to the divas of WWE.

"We're not done yet, conejita." Stella's penetrating voice brought Mira from her musing.

A much younger girl, Patricia, known mostly for being Stella's neice and always distracted by her cellular, perhaps 15 or so walked past, giggling as she texted away to whomever.

"PATRICIA!" Stella's voice suddenly boomed, making mostly everyone jump, "I told you to get the wax hours ago, get it together, sweetie. I will fire you so fast-"

In all honesty, Patricia had asked for the job of assistant and she was expected to do a decent job. She was simply a lazy girl whomst was happy with what her aunt payed. At the sudden shout, Patricia had almost dropped her phone. Almost.

The next few hour or so was long. Very, very long and painful. This was the day Mira decided that she would stick to shaving. When it was all over, to Mira's joy, Mira walked up to the front of the shop to pay, ignoring the faint sting that her walk carried. Come on, she just couldnt help but get a bikini wax. It would be stupid to just settle with legs, right? Well, whatever the answer was Mira sure felt stupid allowing Clumsy Candy anywhere near her poontang with wax and a damn oversized strip of duct tape. Goodness, it felt like duct tape.

She approached Stella at the concession, letting out a groan of pain and grumbling something incoherent, "So, about that 0% discount..."

Stella however stood with perfect posture and a wide grin, "0%? Oh, Mira, did i say 0? I meant 1-0-0." She gave our protagonist a wink, "Everything's covered for the next two months or so? Maybe one day you'll have enough bank to pay me back. Eh, you'd better. I'm investing big bucks in you, cabrona." She said clearly and casually, though Mira wondered what the hell she was talking about. Investing? Two months? Pay me back?

Before she could ask, she was batted away.

Damn.

Mira checked the time, her hand quickly going to the phone in the pocket of her overalls. Around noon. Huh, she had the whole day to do whatever the hell she wanted.

So, Mira shoved her hands along with her phone into the pockets of her overalls and began walking. She had to get to a cool place, otherwise she feared she'd ruin her hair in this heat. An idea sparked in her mind. Charlie. She could schmooze him up a bit at the same time spending a little time with him. Killing two birds with one stone, bro. She jogged across the street once more, jogging her way to the little corner store nearby. She saw a few preteens jumping rope outside the store. She smiled a bit, thinking back to when she was younger.

Tia Daniela's pep talks were always so refreshing and inspiring. Charlie used to be... pretty different. She remembered one day. Ah, that was a crazy day. The day her suspcions of younger Charlie were confirmed.

 _She was just a naive 14, just finishing up at the gym. Tia Daniela and Charlie had come along with her. Tia Daniela had been teaching Mira the basics of fighting and Charlie wanted in on that knowledge. The gym was stuffy and thriving, and Mira wanted to step out to take out the trash. Her family owned the gym and she wanted to be helpful, Charlie sure wasn't going to do it. She had walked a bit in order to see the sunset better. Instead, she caught sight of a few rascals. No, rascal was a gentle word for those punks. In school, they didn't have a knack for her witty remarks and out of school they just outright hated her. As she passed them to lug the bag of trash to the dumpster, they jeered and mocked. Speaking in mock spanish and talking out the side of their necks._

 _"Y'all aren't supposed to be back here, malditos idiotas."_

 _"Ay, mami, you're breaking mi corazon." Came a taunting reply,_

 _"Oh, por favor let us stay, mirror!"_

 _"What kind/ of name is that anyway, 'Mirror'?" Came the voice of THE girl. The girl whomst Mira had flipped her lid on, the girl whomst present Mira did all she could to avoid. She sat cat-like and teasing atop the dumpster. The smell seeming to not bother her at all._

 _"MY name." Mira had replied sharply, glaring at THE girl. She thought her name was beautiful. Latin for 'Wonder'. Tia Daniela would always call her 'My Mira, my wonder.'_

 _"A garbage name for a garbage person...Speaking of, why don't we send this raggedy mirror to where all trash goes?" The owner of this voice was in fact a boy named Kenneth whomst had latin roots himself. THE girl hopped off the dumpster and grabbed Mira's wrist, yanking her in the direction of the dumpster. She wasted no time._

 _"Dude! Get your hands off me, desagradable, estúpido, haggle diente perra!"_

 _"Hey!"_

 _It was tia Daniela was standing at the alley, Her arms crossed over her chest and her face one purely of anger. Charlie was by her side, scoping the scene. THE girl had stopped, froze. Mira took this chance to dash through them, running to the side of her tia._

 _"Do we have a problem here?" her tia had asked, her voice authoratative and firm. She was like Stella._

 _Though it appeared her effect of fear was wearing off with time, for Kenneth had pulled out a pocketknife. It was rusty and wicked looking. Like him,_

 _"Mind your buisness, Vieja." He sneered._

 _Then Charlie stepped forward, his hand going to the front of his shirt. He grabbed the fabric of his loose fitting tank top, lifting it to reveal- Yes his stomach, but also a gun, tucked into his waistband, "She asked, you answer. Do we have a problem?"_

 _Mira wasn't looking at the gun, though. Her eyes were firmly planted on a... tattoo, looking to be a symbol right along his ribs. She had recognized the symbol to have belonged to a group. A clique. A posse. A gang. Charlie had only been 16._

 _See, if tia Daniela was as shocked as Mira and the other kids, she sure as hell hadn't shown it._

That was a day Mira would always remember. A day Charlie had seemed to forget. She walked into the corner store, Her hazel eyes searched the store for a certain boy- Well, Man now, "Yo! Carlie, where you at, papi?" She said, even though she had pretty much stopped searching and she was making her way to the little ice cream freezer. She opened the freezer, grabbing a scooby-doo push pop, her favorite. She opened the pop, hoisting herself up onto the freezer. The cool air from the freezer immediately cooled her down much to her delight. She pushed the pop between her lips into her mouth. Beautiful.

She saw Charlie come from the back carrying a crate of cartons. She flashed him a little smirk, "Hopefully you'll grace me, your bestie with the 100% discount Stella gave."

He returned that smirk, "Maybe." he said before he walked over to the store fridges, "Or, maybe you can work off that...Eh, dollar and thirty cents. Get your ass down here, Senorita. I'll need your help." He paused for what seemed like forever, "And your hair looks nice. Stella really knows what she's doing."

He was a completely different person. Mira smiled, hopping off the freezer, "Okay, okay. Never let it be said that Mira Rosa Marie Diaz De La Vega-Rodriguez is lazy."

"It'll probably never be said, Mira. No one has the time to." He replied to her over dramatic words as he sat down the crate,

Mira gasped loudly, feigning offense, "The nerve of some!" she huffed, walking over.

She stayed in the shop until it was late in the fifth hour, maybe 5:40 or so? They had spent their time talking, cracking on eachother, freestyling and watching the news on the small radio TV at the register. She'd miss their talks, their interactions in general, really. He was her best friend, truely.

But it was time for her to go home. Time for her to get her things and... leave. Though, would she truely leave? She still had to figure out if she should. It seemed like a waste of precious time if she didn't. (A huge waste of mines. Bruh, I write this shit.) She put her hands in her pocket as she walked home. The heat had become bearable. She wished she had more time to spend with Charlie. She had been looking forward to the fire hydrant play.

She got to her humble abode, a smile gracing her lips as she set her eyes onto the cozy little house. She walked up to the porch. Her eyes moved to the flower pot hanging by the door. She looked around, checking to see if anyone was watching. She thenn retrieved the key from the pot. Anyone looking would probably think she was messing with the flowers. She pushed the key into the lock before she turned it, pushing the door open. She closed it behind her, "Abuela?" She called, "Are you awake? I need a goodbye hug from mi corazon!"

Abuela came from the kitchen, a light in her deep brown eyes. She seemed beyond elated, "Mija!" She exclaimed, "It's a wonder!" Miracles, illegitimately, "Estella!"

Mira's eyes were wide. She blinked a few times, "Abuela, what are you talking about? What about Stella?"

"She paid,"

"Paid?"

"The rent, _mija_. _¡Alabanza!"_ Abuela said, taking ahold of Mira's hands in a warm, reassuring grip, "Now, I don't want to hear any more talk of you giving up your dream. You have people in your corner, Mira and we want to see you doing what you've been wanting to do for years now. Your determination gives us hope. Our wonder."

She wrapped her arms around Mira in a loving, serene hug, "Now, you go get your things. I'll take you to the airport!" She seemed excited. Bro, it's been years since Abuela's been outside of the neighborhood.


End file.
